Chapter 30
Stephanie and Keith had arrived in Miami late in the afternoon, and Stephanie had made quick business of getting reacquainted with one of her favorite cities. She had visited Miami a few times with one of her ex-boyfriends, but didn’t mention that to Keith. Instead, like Keith, she rolled down the windows and looked around wide-eyed at sultry downtown Miami with its palm trees and its riverwalk. She gazed up at the high-rises and scanned the high-end boutiques and beautiful tan pedestrians who strolled along the sidewalks. She loved the city’s cosmopolitan Latin and Caribbean flavor. She always had. Too bad she wasn’t here for fun, though she planned to enjoy steamy Miami and all it had to offer when their search for Isaac ended. For now, they were there to find the conman and, as Keith kept reminding her, “finding that S.O.B. in Miami will be as easy as finding a needle in a haystack.”
Keith was struggling to figure out where they should start. “It’s not like we can stand on some random street corner showing everyone his picture,” he had muttered.
So Stephanie suggested that they instead focus on places where the victims Isaac usually targeted would frequent.
“How about ritzy day spas and hair salons?” she had suggested that evening as they sat at a small dinette table in a Cuban sandwich shop. They shared a plate of plantain chips between them. Stephanie took a sip of mango juice from her Styrofoam cup. “What do you think?” she asked.
“You know . . .” Keith tilted his head and shoved a forkful of rice and beans into his mouth. He chewed. “That’s not a bad idea.” He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “So you’re as smart as you are beautiful.”
She proudly raised her chin. “I try.”
“I guess the plan then is for you to go into these spas and salons and start asking questions? See if anyone has run into Isaac?”
“I get to do it?” She grinned. “You mean like a real detective?”
She had gotten a taste of what Keith did for a living when she talked to Big Red, but doing something like this would mean going around with a picture of Isaac and asking strangers if they had seen him—like a real gumshoe. It sounded so exciting!
“I don’t see why not,” he said, eating more of his food. “You’ve been doing a pretty good job so far. There’s no reason to hold you back now.”
She paused and squinted. “Wait. Can I do this type of stuff? I mean . . . Is it legal? I’m not licensed.”
“Well, technically, my license stopped working once I crossed the Virginia border. In the state of Florida, neither of us is really considered a ‘detective.’ So hey, by all means, give it a try. Anyone’s allowed to ask questions, right?”
She clapped her hands excitedly. “Private Investigator Stephanie Gibbons. I like the sound of that! I can’t wait! It’s going to be so much fun!”
He slowly shook his head and regarded her with amusement. “We’ll see if you feel that way a few days from now, sweetheart.”
Keith was right. Stephanie would soon regret her words. She quickly discovered that detective work wasn’t as fun or as easy as it seemed. Though she went to great lengths to look the part of a wealthy woman of leisure with her dark-tinted glasses, high heels, a flouncy sunhat and expensive maxi dress, it didn’t mean things ran smoothly when she walked into the snooty salons and spas around town. She didn’t always get the chance to ask her questions, even when she attempted to do it inconspicuously. One salon threw her out for soliciting even though she had tried to explain that she wasn’t selling anything. Another spa asked her to leave because she was upsetting the clients.
“Sorry, the oxygen infusion process doesn’t work as well when the clients are distressed,” one aesthetician had explained to Stephanie as she was escorted out of the facials area.
Another salon owner was a lot less polite. She threatened to call the police if Stephanie didn’t leave the premises immediately. After a few days of footwork at more than two dozen high-end establishments spanning from South Beach to Coconut Grove, all Stephanie had to show for it was several manicures, a few pedicures, and newly highlighted hair. She still hadn’t found any new information about Isaac.
Her ego was bruised and battered. She felt like a complete and utter failure.
“My feet are killing me!” Stephanie cried after flopping face first onto their king-sized hotel bed at the end of one particularly bad day of investigating.
They were back to sharing a room again. Their current hotel room was on the twenty-third floor of one of the high-rise hotels in downtown Miami near the convention center. They had a view of the river and at night they occasionally heard the thud of the drawbridge nearby as trucks passed over the steel grates.
Keith sat on the bed beside her and slowly pulled off her high-heeled sandals from her feet. “Rough day?” he asked, fighting back a smile.
“The worst,” she mumbled into the comforter then raised her head. She gazed up at him with saddened eyes. “How do you do it?”
He started to massage her feet. “How do I do what?”
“How do you do this detective thing?” She paused to close her eyes, loving the feel of his strong hands on her worn soles. She then slowly opened her eyes again. “People are either paranoid about me asking them questions, or just plain rude! Some of them wouldn’t even look at the picture of Isaac I was trying to show them! It would’ve taken only a few seconds of their time, but they acted like they couldn’t be bothered.”
“Well, it’s not a job that’s meant for everybody,” he conceded as his healing hands shifted to her calves, raising the hem of her dress as he massaged her tense muscles. “But you just have to keep at it. It just takes time.”
“I know,” she grumbled. “But I feel like we’ve been at this for weeks. I thought we were at the finish line.”
“We might not be, honey. Isaac might not even be in Miami. We could be searching for a man who’s not even here.”
Ugh, don’t say that!” she cried, dropping her head back to the bed. “Please!”
“You have to face that possibility, baby.”
“I know! I know! But I don’t want to,” she said sullenly.
“Look, don’t think about any of that tonight. Focus on tomorrow. Tomorrow’s another day and another opportunity to find Isaac. Plus, we agreed to at least give it a week before we discussed giving up and moving on to somewhere else.” He lowered her legs back to the bed and rose to his feet. “So come on. Get undressed.”
She raised her head again, turned to look at him, and frowned quizzically at his abrupt subject change. “Huh?”
“You need to relax. Get undressed,” he said again, pointing to her clothes. “I’ll turn down the lights. Make a bubble bath then . . .” His smile broadened, revealing the dimples she so loved. “. . . We’ll see where it goes.”
We’ll see where it goes?” She snorted. “Keith, you know damn well where it will go! It’ll end up with me bent over the edge of the bathtub. That’s usually what happens anyway.”
His eyes twinkled mischievously. “We can stay in the water, if you prefer.”
“Why do men think everything can be solved with sex?”
He shrugged. “Because it usually can be.”
She shook her head then pursed her lips. She contemplated his offer. If there was anything that could make her feel better, she knew that it was Keith’s warm embrace. She seemed to forget everything when she was wrapped in his arms or moaning beneath him.
She slowly pushed herself to her elbows and stood. “All right,” she said, raising her hands to the strings around her neck that were holding up her maxi dress, “but only because you insist.”
 
Stephanie took a deep breath before tugging open one of the double glass doors of the Salon de la Agua. After a few days of doing this, each salon and spa started to blend into the next. They all had the same soothing techno muzak playing in the background. All the stylists and aestheticians were dressed head-to-toe in black. Everyone who worked in these establishments was so stylish and thin they looked like they had just stepped out of the pages of the fashion magazines their clients were browsing as the women waited to get their hair or nails done. But this particular salon had the distinction of having a floor-to-ceiling waterfall in the center of the room. Stephanie gaped in wonder as she stared at it.
“Hi, can I help you?” the perky blonde at the black-marble front desk asked.
Stephanie tore her eyes away from the waterfall and looked at the receptionist. “Uh, yes.” She took off her sunglasses. “I don’t have an appointment, but I wondered if any of your stylists were open today. I just need a shampoo and a trim.”
The blonde looked at her contemptuously. “Well, we usually don’t do same-day appointments, ma’am. Many of our stylists are booked months in advance, but I’ll see what I can do.” The receptionist took her name and leaned her head toward their waiting area. “You can have a seat over there.”
Stephanie nodded and walked across the room to the sleek Bauhaus chairs in the corner. Two other women were sitting in the waiting area: a busty Latina brunette with big, long hair and a tall, thin redhead with a blunt bob. Stephanie smiled at them politely.
“Hi,” Stephanie said as she sat down.
The Latina nodded and grinned. The redhead ignored her, peering down instead at the cell phone in her hands.
“Do you two have appointments?”
“Yes, with Marisol,” the Latina volunteered. “She’s one of the best stylists they have in here, but I guess she’s running a little late today.”
The redhead only nodded.
“Yeah, I don’t have one, unfortunately,” Stephanie said. “I wish I did though. But I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t been able to schedule anything.” She reached into her purse and retrieved a three-by-five-inch picture. “You see I’m looking for someone . . . the guy in this photo. I wondered if either of you have seen him around.”
The Latina leaned forward and peered at the picture of Isaac. “No, I haven’t seen him. Sorry.”
“Doesn’t look familiar,” the redhead said. She had finally looked up from her cell phone. “Are you a process server?”
Stephanie paused, taken aback by the question. “No. Why?”
“Uh-huh,” the redhead said, looking as if she didn’t believe Stephanie. “Look, if you are a process server and you’re here to serve divorce papers, this is an incredibly tacky place to do it. My ex did that when I was getting a body wrap two years ago.”
The Latina raised her hand to her bubble-gum pink lips in astonishment. “Oh, no! Are you kidding?”
“I most definitely am not! There I was wrapped in seaweed and some asshole comes walking up with a stack of papers in his hand.”
Stephanie quickly shook her head. “No, really, I’m not serving divorce papers. It’s nothing like that. I’m just—”
“All the women in the exfoliating room were staring at me,” the redhead continued angrily. Her face turned as red as her hair. “I was so humiliated! I will never forgive my ex-husband for doing that to me! Never!”
“I wouldn’t either,” the Latina said.
“Miss Gibbons? Miss Gibbons?” the receptionist called.
Stephanie rolled her eyes, wondering if the receptionist had overheard their conversation and if she was about to be kicked out of yet another hair salon. She rose to her feet. She slowly walked back to the receptionist desk, ready to be escorted to the front door. But the blonde was smiling.
“You’re in luck, Miss Gibbons,” she said. “One of our stylists just came open. That rarely if ever happens around here.”
“Great!” Stephanie exclaimed, relieved that she wasn’t being shown the door for once.
Minutes later she was escorted across the salon to the chair of a young stylist with a spiked haircut. “So all you need is a wash and a trim, huh?” the young woman asked.
As Stephanie sipped the salon’s complimentary green tea and sat in her styling chair discussing the layered hairstyle she wanted, she managed to show Isaac’s picture to a few more people, including her stylist and the women sitting beside her, but none of them had seen him.
Soon after a cape was draped over her chest, she was escorted to the shampoo bowls where a bronze-skinned, dark-haired Adonis awaited.
“Hey,” he said with an impossibly white smile. “I’m Rafael. I’ll be shampooing you today.”
He guided Stephanie to his shampoo bowl. She sat down and lowered her head. Rafael turned on the water and began to massage in the lavender-scented shampoo. She cooed as he kneaded and caressed her scalp. So he was cute and he knew how to pamper a girl. She knew plenty of women in Chesterton who would die to sit with their heads in his bowl—if you got her drift.
“You like that?” Rafael asked huskily as he ran the spray of hot water over her hair.
Mmmm hmmm,” Stephanie moaned.
“I’m known as magic fingers around here.”
“I bet you are!”
He continued to wash her hair and Stephanie continued to enjoy it.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked five minutes into the wash.
“Sure.”
“Why do you have a picture of Manny’s boyfriend?”
“I’m sorry. Who?
“Manny’s boyfriend, Devon. That’s who’s in the photo, right?”
Stephanie’s eyes shot open. She suddenly raised her head out of the shampoo bowl. Soapsuds and water oozed down her temple and neck. It almost ran into her eyes, but she didn’t care. She turned and gazed at Rafael in disbelief.
“You recognize the guy in this picture?” she asked Rafael, holding up the photo she was still clutching in her hand. She had hoped to inconspicuously show it to the woman getting her hair washed beside her. “You know this guy?”
Rafael nodded, looking confused as to why she was so surprised. “Sure, I see him with Manny at Coco Locos three days a week. They’re usually hiding in the VIP section. I told you . . . They’re an item.”
Stephanie wanted to jump up and down with joy. Rafael had seen Isaac! After days of searching and going to so many salons and spas she had almost lost count, she had finally hit the jackpot!
“Devon’s kind of a jerk though. Always walks around with his nose in the air,” Rafael continued with a curl of disgust in his lip. “Personally, I think Manny’s too good for him. Manny could do so much better.”
Manny? Who . . . Who’s she?”
“Not she, honey. He!”
Stephanie’s eyes bulged out of her head. Isaac was dating a man?
“His name is Manny. He’s Manuel Alvarez.”
She gazed at him blankly.
“You know . . . the famous developer.” He paused. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”
“No, I’m from Virginia.”
“Well, Manny is a big guy here in Miami . . . owns lots of real estate around Miami Beach and South Beach. He and mi novio have worked together on a few deals. That’s how I know him. He’s also part owner of Coco Locos. I go there all the time. It’s got a good vibe. It’s one of the best gay clubs in town.”
Isaac would do a lot of things to make a buck: lie, cheat, even get into the pants of sixty-year-old women. But she found it hard to believe that he also was willing to seduce men to thicken his wallet. He had seemed so . . . so straight.
“Yeah,” a voice in her head chided, “well, he seemed to be a lot of things that he wasn’t.”
She held the picture toward Rafael.
“You’re definitely sure it’s him? This is Manny’s boyfriend?”
Rafael didn’t hesitate before nodding again. “Sure, it’s him. Devon doesn’t have the goatee anymore, but trade the suit for a low-cut tank top and Rock & Republic denim jeans and you’ve got that queen! There’s no mistaking it.”
Stephanie lowered her head back into the shampoo bowl, gazed blankly at the ceiling, and let the news about Isaac sink in. This was a plot twist she certainly hadn’t anticipated. She bet Keith would be shocked to hear it too.
“So you never explained why you have his picture,” Rafael persisted, rinsing her hair again.
“Ummm, well, I’ve . . .” She hesitated. “I’ve been looking for him.”
“Looking for him? Has Devon done something wrong?” He turned off the water and made a tsk, tsk sound. He grabbed one of the dark towels off the wooden shelf behind him. “I swear there’s something about that guy that has always rubbed me the wrong way. When I met him, he seemed so shady.”
“Well, don’t tell anyone I told you this,” she whispered, deciding to be honest with Rafael since he didn’t seem particularly fond of Isaac either—or Devon, as he was calling himself now. “But he’s wanted by the police in Virginia. I’ve been tracking him down for weeks.”
“Wait. You’re a cop?
“No, I’m a private detective . . . sort of.”
Rafael grinned as he dried her hair. “I didn’t know they had detectives as cute as you.”
She winked. “If you’re angling to get a big tip, it’s working.”
“So I guess you want to know where you can find Devon.”
“If you’re willing to tell me . . .” She shrugged. “Sure!”
He wrapped the towel around her neck and patted her shoulder. “I will not only tell you where to find him, but I’ll write down the address and give you directions. Wait right here.”
Stephanie grinned as she watched Rafael walk across the salon. She clapped her hands triumphantly.
An hour and a half later, Stephanie rushed back to the hotel to tell Keith what she had learned that morning. She had gotten the address for Manuel’s villa in South Beach from Rafael. She raced into the hotel room, making Keith look up from his lunch at her in surprise. She was so excited that all she could do was jump up and down.
Keith stood from his chair and held up his hand. “Calm down, baby. Take a deep breath.”
She did what he said and slowly breathed in, then out. When she did, she felt a lot calmer.
“Now,” he said slowly. “Tell me what happened.”
When she finished telling Keith the story Rafael had told her, Keith stared at her. He looked absolutely stunned.
“His next mark is a man?
She nodded and kicked off her high heels. “Looks like it. Rafael said they’ve been dating only a couple of weeks. He gave Manny and all his friends some cock and bull story about being an actor from California.”
“But a man!” Keith exclaimed, still shaking his head. He slumped back into his chair. “Seriously?
“Manny may be a man, but think about it, Keith! He fits the description of all the other victims Isaac targeted. Manny’s unattached and supposed to be pretty wealthy.” She tilted her head. “In fact, if Manny was straight, I probably would have tracked him down myself.”
Keith chuckled. “He does sound like your type.”
Stephanie leaned down and kissed him. She then sat in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Not anymore. I like average Joes who drive old, beat up SUVs and are really, really good in bed.”
“Well, that’s much appreciated.” He laughed again then quickly grew somber. “All right, so we should probably plan on heading there tonight. Maybe we can finally get a glimpse of Isaac.”
“You mean like a . . . a real stakeout?”
“Sure, we can call it a stakeout, if you want.”
She untangled her arms from around his neck and instantly jumped to her feet. “Great! I have the perfect outfit!”
Keith raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“Just give me time to change!” she shouted before raising the hem of her dress and rushing toward their hotel bathroom. She then pulled her dress over her head and tossed it to the floor.